


The Piercing Of The Sword

by Draco_Rattus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 17:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_Rattus/pseuds/Draco_Rattus
Summary: A re-imagining of the conflict with Hanzo and Genji Shimada, switching between their first time in bed together and the fight during which Hanzo supposedly kills Genji. (Inspired by a poem from Cecilia Dart-Thornton's novel, 'The Battle Of Evernight')





	The Piercing Of The Sword

"The act of love reflects a violent death;  
The piercing of the sword, the gasping cry,  
Th'expense of spirit and th'expense of breath-  
Close, ecstasy and agony do lie."

_\- Celia Dart-Thornton, from 'The Battle Of Evernight'_

=========================

The two brothers stood beside each other on one of the many balconies of the Shimada Clan’s Hanamura estate, gazing out at the buildings below and the mountains beyond. The city of Hanamura itself lay open before them like a beautiful flower, full of riches and full of promise, the shadows of Fujiyama stretching out across the valley as the sun grew low. Hanzo Shimada had always thought that the city seemed at its most beautiful during sunset, when the world was bathed in a comforting light which brought warmth to everything that it touched, and he allowed himself a smile at the thought.

“Another beautiful evening, it seems.”

“This view will always be beautiful.” Genji Shimada’s cheeks flushed slightly, perhaps embarrassed by his statement, as though to admit that he loved his home could somehow be a sign of weakness. “I will never tire of seeing it.”

“Then let us hope you do not, little Sparrow.”

“Don’t call me that.” Genji deflected his older brother’s comment with a weak smile, though he knew it had been meant in good faith. It was a nickname their father had given to him, and as with so many other things, it was a gift he would rather not have received. Despite his apparent soft spot for his youngest son, their father had certain expectations, and hearing that name reminded him of the way the man seemed to think his children were merely yet another set of possessions - or rather, weapons. Weapons to be deployed as he saw fit. “You know I don’t like it.”

“My apologies.” Hanzo nodded, vaguely remembering a conversation about it, but in this case deferring to Genji’s better judgement. “I shall not use it again.”

Genji couldn’t help but laugh, a reaction which brought a confused frown to Hanzo’s features.

“What entertains you so?”

“You’re always so serious, brother!” Genji grinned, the look in his eyes showing that there was no malice in his words. “Even when you’re trying to be informal, you can’t help but sound as though you’re about to give a lecture before the clan elders.”

“At least one of us can act like an adult.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means one of us realises that we will have to act with responsibility one day.” Sometimes it seemed to Hanzo that Genji lived in a world beyond that of the Shimada clan; a world beyond the wealth and secrecy of their family, a world of freedom and naïve justice, a better world free of murder and deception and---

_No. The Shimada Clan is my duty, and my life._

=========================

Though Hanzo trod carefully along the corridor which led to the Hanamura dojo, his footsteps no heavier than falling leaves, still the nightingale floor loudly cried out his arrival. As a child Hanzo had presumed that the fanciful name was due to the way the boards sang when they were stepped upon, a beautiful feat of engineering which brought melody to the household; it was only when he had grown older that he realized their true intent, a warning system to signal the arrival of intruders who would have preferred to remain silent. Not that he need have bothered. He already knew that Genji would be waiting for him, just as he knew that his brother would not even try to flee from his approach. In hindsight this battle was inevitable, and they would both enter into it with the awareness that only one of them could leave. 

Hanzo looked different now, very different from the young man he had been only a few years ago. Gone were the long curtains which had once framed his face, his hair cut now instead in the style of his father, and he had allowed the growth of a small beard which he had cropped to match the way Sojiro had chosen to wear his. His loose clothing had been replaced with the trademark suit of the Shimada clan, pinstriped black with panels of deep blue, the family crest emblazoned on the sleeve of his white shirt. With one last check of his weapons – his bow slung from his shoulder, one hand straying to the hilt of the blade strapped about his waist, his father’s blade, the one Sojiro had bequeathed to his eldest son before he had passed away – Hanzo moved to stand at the dojo’s entrance, a pale silhouette in the evening light.

“Genji.”

He said no other words of greeting; he didn’t need to. Genji was already there, his own appearance also markedly different from when they had been younger, the hair which had once been a pleasing ebony now dyed a shade of bright green which Hanzo found most offensive. He wore the loose shozoku favoured by the clan when carrying out their more deadly duties, his katana strapped across his back, his wakizashi at his side. Though they had not been Sojiro’s own they had still been used by earlier members of the family before him, the metal of their blades shining brightly yet retaining the memory of blood.

“Hanzo.” Genji acknowledged Hanzo’s abrupt greeting with his own, although compared to Hanzo’s determined tone, Genji merely sounded bored. “Do we _have_ to do this?”

“You know that we must.”

“Why so? For daring to seek a life outside what we have here? For daring to seek enjoyment in things other than money, than death?”

“You have shamed us for too long.” Even Hanzo could tell that the words which came from his mouth were not his own. They were the words of the clan elders, the shadowy group of figures who had steered the Shimada family for as long as anyone could remember. “You refuse to attend the family meetings. You flout the rules about secrecy. You shun our councils of war to waste your time playing video games---“

“You are the heir, Hanzo. We both know that.” Genji shifted his stance, one foot slowly moving in front of the other in a defensive posture, his fingers already poised over the hilt of one of his blades. “It falls upon you now to make the decisions and enforce the traditions of the clan. As Sojiro’s first-born, you---“

“I am not the _only_ one who carries father’s blood.” Even as he spoke, he slung the bow from his shoulder and hefted it within his hands; his fingers twitched upon the weapon, the bowstring becoming as tense and taut as his words. “It seems you do not respect it, and now I must be the one to relieve you of your shame.” 

=========================

Hanzo shook his head slightly, attempting to clear such dark thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t often that the two brothers were able to enjoy such a peaceful evening as this, merely relaxing in each others’ company instead of being subjected to one of their vigorous training sessions or – to Genji, at least – yet another interminable history lesson about the glory of the past achievements of the clan, followed by an intense question-and-answer session to check they had actually been listening.  
The brothers were united not only by blood but also by their suffering. Shimada Sojiro was a harsh father who expected nothing less than perfection from his sons, and he did not refrain from ensuring that they knew it. From a young age they had been pitted against each other in combat, learning the ways of bow and blade beside each other only to use those skills in the family’s dojo to try and gain victory. Both Hanzo and Genji had taken to their training with enthusiasm, finding pleasure in their sparring whilst also appreciating its purpose, yet still they bore the scars from such a vigorous upbringing and they would do so for the rest of their lives.

Their scars were not only physical, either. Many had been the time when Sojiro, angered by what he had seen as his sons’ failure – a blow taken in combat which could easily have been avoided, a careless strike which had left one of them open and defenceless - had loudly come in search of Hanzo and Genji to reprimand them, only to discover they were nowhere to be found. The children, fearing their father’s wrath, had retreated to one of the estate’s many safe hiding places to find comfort in each other’s arms until their parent’s anger had subsided. On several occasions they had waited out his rage for almost a day, sleeping in abandoned storerooms or forgotten roof spaces where their only other companions had been the rats creeping about the rafters, but it had only served to forge a bond between them which neither believed could ever break.

And now – some years older, some years wiser – they still found satisfaction in each others’ company, trusting each other implicitly, knowing each other’s strengths and weaknesses as if they had been separate parts of the same whole. Even so, some space had grown between them of late, and Hanzo was aware that this was much of his own doing. There were certain… feelings which had given him cause for concern, feelings which he had not yet been able to identify or confront. Hanzo did not like being faced with things which he could neither understand nor control.

“Something troubles you.” Of course, being so close to his brother also meant that Genji could easily tell when there was an issue playing upon Hanzo’s mind. “May I be of help?”

“It is nothing.” _It is everything. How can I doubt the family which raised me and gave me everything I have? Why am I plagued with such confusion?_ “A fleeting matter. It will pass.”

“As do the winter storms, yet they do not leave the mountain unchanged.”

“But the mountain still stands.”

“As you say.” 

Genji nodded, recognizing Hanzo’s words as a polite refusal of assistance. Even so, he moved his hand across the rail of the balcony – hesitating for a moment, considering whether Hanzo would consider the act one of pity, of weakness – and placed his fingers upon his brother’s own, squeezing them gently. Hanzo, for his part, stiffened, suddenly feeling as though a bolt of electricity had gone right through his body, the confused feelings of the past few months suddenly dazzling him with their clarity and paralyzing him with the knowledge that he no longer loved Genji merely as a brother. He loved him as something _more._

=========================

Hanzo struck first, unslinging the bow from his side and notching an arrow to the string in one single, fluid motion. His hands moved so swiftly that any normal person would have fallen to the arrow which he fired, but Genji had known his brother long enough to recognize exactly what he was doing. The arrow shot past Genji’s left ear to fly straight out of the dojo’s door, lodging into the woodwork of the small pagoda in the garden beyond. Hanzo hissed in annoyance, pulling another shaft from his quiver, but Genji was already out of his line of sight, moving to flank him and buying himself some time.

“I will lay down my weapon if you lower yours.” Genji didn’t expect his persuasion to work, but he had to at least _try._ “You are your own person, Hanzo. You are not a puppet of the clan elders.”

“You have _betrayed_ me!” Hanzo blazed with fury, his very words infused with the anger of the dragon itself. “You have betrayed our father! You have betrayed the Shimada Clan with your thoughtless dalliances, wasting our money on your amusement arcades and your video games, using our money to pleasure yourself with the women of the city---“

“Is that why you are angry with me?”

Hanzo paused, eyes narrowing, sensing another one of Genji’s games.

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t about the family, is it?” It infuriated Hanzo even further, the way Genji could remain so carefree and casual even during a conversation in a situation such as this. “This is about _us.”_

“Get to the point. I have no time for trickery.”

“Then perhaps you should have reconsidered before accepting the mantle of a clan whose wealth was amassed through betrayal and lies.”

“With every word your speak, you bring your death ever closer.”

“Then allow me to say this.” Genji shifted, his stance relaxing slightly to bring him onto the same level as Hanzo, to let him look his brother in the eye. “You say that you have been sent to kill me because that is what the elders have told you to do. That I have shamed the family by seeking my enjoyment elsewhere, and spent their money on frivolous pursuits. But really…”

He smiled sadly, sighed, shook his head.

“…this is because I chose to warm my bed with a woman, instead of _you.”_

Hanzo froze, as though his veins had suddenly turned into ice. Was it true? He had thought his rage to be a result of Genji’s disobedience, confirmed by the way the elders had spoken of his younger brother when he had been given the order to kill him –Genji is no longer worthy of holding the family name, he shames himself with his disregard for our traditions – but remembering now the sheer pain he had felt when he had walked in once on Genji in a passionate tryst with a girl he had brought up from the city---

“Still your tongue, lest I cut it from your throat!”

_I still love him._

And knowing that Genji now chose to couple with women, women he paid for – knowing that he seemed to have forsaken the lovers’ bond they had once shared – it had all but broken Hanzo’s heart. Snarling, roaring with anger, he unleashed a raging storm of arrows towards Genji’s chest.

=========================

Hanzo couldn’t say when the deeper feelings for his brother had first arisen. For as long as he could remember, it had always been the two of them against the rest of the world; he had been only three years old when Genji had been born, and he recalled it as having been a joyous event, even at that young age. Their father Sojiro had never allowed him to play with other children – who _would_ he have played with, being raised so protectively within the Hanamura compound? – and to finally have a sibling to dote upon and spend time with had been a great blessing indeed. Genji had been a brother, a friend, somebody to confide in, and now…  
He clasped onto Genji’s fingers as if they were a lifeline, as though he were a drowning man sinking beneath a wave of emotions, and his brother’s fingers were the only thing which could keep him afloat.

“Genji.”

“Are you alright?” Worry on Genji’s features, concern that Hanzo was genuinely not well. He gently tried to pull his fingers away, but failed. “Should I fetch a physician?”

“No.” Hanzo’s response was gruff at first, becoming softer and more calm as he forced himself to speak. “No. In fact… I have never felt better.”

Now it was Hanzo’s turn to laugh, the sound carrying with it an edge of madness and exasperation, but it was the madness of a man who had seen the truth.

“What would you say, if I told you…”

Hanzo sighed, releasing his grip on Genji’s fingers, but taking a step closer; he used one hand to push loose strands of hair from his eyes, smiling at Genji with an expression his brother recognized as mischievous – and it had been quite some time since Hanzo had been mischievous. Intrigued, Genji allowed his brother to reach up and trace his fingers softy across cheek, his fingertips calloused from countless hours of training, his hands scarred from mistakes made, lessons learned; slowly, shakily, they found his jawline, tilting his chin up towards his own.

“What are you doing, brother?” Genji’s voice was curious rather than wary. They had never shied away from physical contact with each other, but never before had it been as intimate as this. “You know I’m not one of father’s courtesans…”

“I don’t _want_ one of his women.” Hanzo’s response was almost a growl. “I don’t want _any_ of them. Not now.”

It was no secret that both of the brothers had lost their innocence with the many women available to the Shimada Clan. High-class ladies, rented by the night or by the hour, had been frequent visitors to their father and he had made sure that his sons were well-educated in the ways of pleasure. But there was lust rising within Hanzo now, and he knew it was not a woman that he craved.

“Then… what _do_ you want?”

“Must you always ask such stupid questions?” Hanzo’s reply was gruff, yet still there was humour within his tone. “I want _you,_ Genji. I want _you.”_

“Hanzo---“

But whatever Genji was about to say was silenced by his brother’s lips pressing firmly against his own, Hanzo’s mouth claiming him as eagerly as any defeated foe; so shocked was Genji at first that he could do nothing but stand there, suddenly caught in the unexpected storm of Hanzo’s emotions and swept away by the sheer hunger of his kiss.

_And I… I welcome it._

=========================

Though he expected it, Hanzo’s fury caught Genji by surprise. The rain of arrows tore through his flesh even as he leapt aside, his brother’s anger burning so strongly that the shots he had fired shredded the paper of one of the large lanterns standing beside the dojo’s entrance, shattered the wooden lattice. Genji cried out in pain as he tore the arrow from his shoulder, leaving a tattered mess of silks and blood; he fought against the pain even as he cast forth a handful of shuriken before him, his answer to Hanzo’s assault. But Hanzo would not fall so easily – he heard them slicing through the air and ducked out of sight behind the wooden panel where one of the ancestral scrolls was hung, hearing the sound of the shuriken as they thudded into solid wood.

“You are _weak!”_ Hanzo called out, gathering himself for another attack. “You are out of practice! Father would cast himself upon the funeral pyre in shame, were he not already dead!”

“Empty words from an empty soul,” Genji rasped, gritting his teeth against the burning sensation of his wound. Already he was backing away from where he had seen Hanzo disappear, keeping his back to the wall, scanning left and right for an opening, an opportunity to strike from the shadows. “I thought you would still be the brother I know, but now you are little more than a doll which echoes the words of its masters.”

“You attempt to provoke me with lies.” As he spoke Hanzo moved, trying to use the sound of his voice to make it appear as though he were standing elsewhere, moving swiftly along the edge of the dojo’s raised floor. “Be more creative, Genji. Your next words will be your last.”

“You have been mistaken before.” A careful step to check whether he was in Hanzo’s line of sight; a glance above him, to be sure his brother had not scaled the wall to lie in wait within the rafters. “Like the time you thought I was sneaking you some ice-cream, but it turned out to be wasabi---”

Hanzo’s response was another hail of arrows, suddenly fired as he broke from cover – but Genji had expected it, his shuriken not only meeting and deflecting the projectiles but even breaking through to find their mark in Hanzo’s arm. There was a sharp curse, Hanzo ducking back and out of sight, wincing as he felt the bite of steel drawing blood and spoiling the fine silk of his suit. Genji would be near him now; his arrows would lose their effectiveness in close-quarters combat, the time it took to reload and fire again wasting precious moments which could be spent harrying his foe. If there was one thing his combat training had taught him, it was to choose the appropriate weapon for the situation – and now was the time for blades. 

Slowly, deliberately, Hanzo drew Sojiro’s sword, the sound a familiar one to them both. It seemed to shine now, even in the shadows of the dojo, as if eager to carry out the bidding of its late master. Somehow, it seemed to hunger for blood.

Knowing that Genji would be closing in on his position, Hanzo moved fast. He ducked back down the corridor he had first entered the dojo from, retracing his steps until he emerged at one of the dojo’s other entrances; a quick glance about the large room did not show Genji lying in wait, but then again, Hanzo had expected nothing less. Not wanting to become a sitting duck himself, Hanzo ran across the floor and dropped down into the sunken walkway before the garden, doing his best to moderate the sound of his breathing so as not to give himself away. In this, he had to admit, his father had trained them both well.

=========================

“What if father finds out?” Genji pulled away from the kiss just long enough to voice his concerns, his voice shallow and marked by panting breaths, his heart beating so fast it felt as though it was trying to hammer its way from his chest. “He would punish us both, Hanzo! He would never---“

“So let him find out,” Hanzo growled, pressing his lips once more against Genji’s own, taking his mouth prisoner as his tongue slipped in to savour his brother’s exquisite taste. He moaned loudly, the vibrations sending a shiver along Genji’s spine, causing him to lean in to his older brother’s touch; he found his hand snaking its way around Hanzo’s back, drawing him closer, wanting to feel the heat of his body pressing closer against him more than ever.

Neither of them could say how long that kiss lasted. All they knew was mutual pleasure, the play of lips upon skin, Hanzo’s mouth pulling away only to press itself eagerly against the naked skin of Genji’s neck; his teeth scraped daringly against him, nipping at him dangerously, teasing him with a playful, wild nature which Hanzo had not even known he possessed. As the fingers of one hand reached up to stroke at the bare skin of Genji’s neck, Hanzo’s other hand was already tracing its way towards Genji’s thigh, eliciting a long, low moan from his younger brother’s throat, a moan which came unbidden yet held its sincerity all the same.

“Hanzo…”

“Should I stop?” Hanzo’s lips were close against Genji’s skin, his breath warm and inviting, his mouth curved into a wicked smile. He felt more than ever now like a wolf chasing its prey, vicious and predatory, but this time Genji was the one he was hunting - and he had no intention of stopping just yet, regardless of his brother’s answer. “Should I---"

“No!” Genji’s response was almost a whine, and he winced because of it. With great effort he modulated his voice to sound more calm, more in control, though Hanzo could easily see through the lie. “No…”

_“Good.”_

=========================

Even Genji had to admit that Hanzo’s next attack was a good one. While Hanzo had fallen back and regrouped, Genji had also taken the opportunity to reposition himself, taking up a spot in a corner near the dojo’s entrance; he had hoped that the bright sunlight streaming in from the garden outside would obscure Hanzo’s vision, using the shadows to his advantage. But while he had been glancing above and to the side, anticipating Hanzo’s possible approach from the walkway above him, he had failed to check below and he didn’t notice his brother charging at him until it was almost too late. Hanzo’s strike would have impaled a lesser man, but Genji’s reflexes allowed him to dodge the worst of the blow although it still tore a chunk of flesh from his side. He gasped in shock, fending Hanzo off by forming a barrier of blades before him, not allowing his older brother to get in another stroke and driving him back despite the pain coursing through him.

“Come on, we both know you can try harder than this!” Genji hissed through gritted teeth. If Hanzo was going to insist on continuing with his madness, Genji could at least wind him up about it – not to mention he could tell there was a lack of intent behind his brother’s blade. “Why are you hesitating to kill me?”

Genji was right, of course; when it came to reading his emotions, Genji was always right. With more power behind his charge Hanzo could have impaled his brother upon his sword, but instead he had hesitated, weakening the blow and allowing Genji to fight back. Realizing this brought shame, and with shame came anger.

“You are an insult to father’s memory!” Hanzo snarled, enraged by the spark of truth within his brother’s words. “Die with a sword in your hands, and with your death, I shall make him proud of us both!”

=========================

If Genji had thought his brother’s initial advances disarming, the rising excitement within Hanzo’s body was almost giving him cause to submit altogether. Hanzo’s fingers were tangling within his hair, his lips travelling ever further down his neck, his other hand tugging at the edge of his shozoku to lay even more of his skin bare for his hungry kisses; so close was he standing now that his thighs were pressing against Genji’s own, and even through the loose material of his trousers Genji could tell that Hanzo’s body was already in a state of arousal.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, as though there even a chance that Hanzo might change his mind. “Please…”

“Please what?”

Hanzo paused, a wicked smirk written upon his features. He was truly enjoying this now, feeling fully in control. It was true that he had acted in a similar manner when he had been with his father’s women, but this was different; this was Genji. Genji was not being paid to pleasure him. Genji was allowing himself to be touched of his own free will.

“What do _you_ think?” A hint of irritation in Genji’s tone, frustration at himself for allowing himself to become a slave to his desires, annoyance at Hanzo for teasing him and winding him up so expertly. “Have our training sessions with father taught you nothing? I thought he said that we were never to waste our energy toying with our targets, when instead we could--- _ah!”_

The sudden pressure of Hanzo’s fingers against his inner thigh caused him to gasp and he shivered, a spasm which travelled the full length of his spine; the initial gasp became a plaintive moan as Hanzo’s hand inched its way further, through the curve of his legs, travelling towards his most sensitive of places—

“Don’t tell me a woman has never touched you there before?” Hanzo smirked, his confidence growing with every submissive sound his brother made. “You always have seemed popular amongst father’s women.”

“Not like… not like _this!”_ Genji breathed, his muscles involuntarily clenching at what his body could have been interpreting as an invasion by Hanzo’s fingers. “N-not... not _there...”_

“Then let me be the one to educate you.” Hanzo didn’t know where his confidence was coming from; the dragon inside him perhaps, hungering for flesh now as well as blood. If there was one thing he did know, however, it was that the dragon’s hunger always needed to be sated. “I have taken women to my bed before, but you will be the first man.”

“You know I never submit to you that easily…”

“We’ll see.” Another warm laugh from Hanzo, another challenge accepted as he pulled back, already turning to lead the way towards his bedroom. “Somehow, I think this time, I have already won.”

=========================

Their father had always said they had fought as equals, no matter which one of them had won their sparring bouts; this was something which had always irritated Hanzo, though it had never troubled Genji as much. Even after their father’s death, when Genji had spent more time away from the family compound and in the city of Hanamura itself, his combat skills had not seemed to wane. The clan’s elders had demanded regular displays of the brothers’ prowess, and they had not disappointed them – that is, until Genji had stopped bothering to return whenever he had been summoned.

“Stop this, Hanzo!” Genji stood firm, refusing to back down despite the wound in his side staining his white robes a deep crimson. Even now, even with his older brother prepared to draw blood, Genji refused to allow Hanzo’s misplaced sense of honour to consume them both. “Is this truly what father would have wanted? Do you really think he would have smiled upon you ending my life?”

“Your death will not please him, but it will bring an end to this shame!”

“Whose shame do you speak of, brother?” His voice held discomfort, his strength beginning to wane. “Do my actions truly shame you so? Or is it your own shame that you feel, that you can never match up to what father wanted you to be?”

“How _dare_ you---“

=========================

Hanzo’s room was large but sparse, his bed made in the traditional style in the centre of the tatami mat flooring; the wall panels showed scenes of dragons and cranes inlaid with elaborate patterns of gold and abalone, and several bookcases adorned the walls, filled with tales of history and treatises on military strategy through the ages. Not that either of the brothers paid much attention to the décor as they fell onto Hanzo’s bedroll together, their bodies already wrapped about each other, lips and fingers and tongues kissing, touching, caressing; Genji lay back amongst the blankets, pulling away briefly to gaze up his brother with a look which was partly admiration, but mostly unadulterated lust. A wicked smile nestled between cheeks which were flushed with anticipation; a low moan escaped his throat as Hanzo’s fingers dared to touch at the hardness which throbbed between his legs with a painful intensity, causing his back to arch as his hips rose to meet his brother’s questing hands.

“Hanzo, please---“

“As if I would make it so easy.” 

Hanzo laughed, briefly detaching himself from Genji to settle back into a kneeling position which allowed him to free himself from his trousers. He was already hard – he had been for some time, since his lips had first touched his brother’s neck – and although there remained a part of him which burned with shame at feeling such desire for his own flesh and blood, he knew he would not be able to rest until that desire had been fed and sated. With shaking hands he shrugged the yukata from his shoulders, baring an expanse of skin and the dragon tattoo which already adorned his left arm; wordlessly he indicated that his brother should do the same, so that the two of them could meet and couple and explore their lust fully naked, enjoy every last inch of each other’s bodies. Genji also possessed a tattoo, a large green dragon which snaked its way along his right arm, the mirror image of Hanzo’s own. 

With shaking, fumbling hands which betrayed their inexperience, they cast off their robes in a disheveled heap on the tatami mat floor. It was not the first time they had seen each other naked; they had bathed and got changed together for years, seen each other in various states of undress, but never before like this. Never as lovers. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time, the fear of not being able to perform underlying the dominant emotion of uncertain lust.

“Lie back.” Hanzo’s words were commanding, yet they held a tenderness which Genji easily recognized. The apparent confidence with which his brother spoke served to calm Genji somewhat, although most of that confidence was bravado which Hanzo projected in order to cover up his own fears. “You are still sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” 

And Genji really _was_ sure. Despite his cockiness, there was something comforting about Hanzo taking the lead like this. It made him feel secure and wanted; it made him feel safe. Feelings which his father had never really instilled with his presence - but he trusted Hanzo with his life.

=========================

Genji leapt upwards out of the way of Hanzo’s next attack, safely dodging the thrust of his brother’s blade – a thrust which Hanzo had put his full force behind, a thrust which tore deep, ugly gouges through the woodwork panels where Genji had been a moment before. Though he had doubted Hanzo’s intent to kill him, it certainly seemed as though his taunts had ignited his brother’s anger to the point where he really could do some serious harm. But Genji didn’t have to win this fight; all he had to do was _survive._

 _And then what?_ It wasn’t as though he had many options. Whatever Hanzo’s own feelings were on the matter, the rest of the Shimada clan wanted him dead and gone. He could strike out on his own and try to make his own way in the world, turn his back on his family and live as a nomad – but he was no fool, no matter how many times his brother insisted on telling him otherwise. He knew from experience that enemies of the Shimada were ruthlessly hunted down and killed by their assassins, a role which he and Hanzo had both fulfilled more than once. _If I dare to leave now, they will hound me to the ends of the earth, and even beyond._

The other option, then…

_No, I could never kill Hanzo. Even if I slew him now I would still have the enmity of the clan elders, and I would still have to flee. Survival, then. Survival, and a life in exile._

He had hoped this confrontation would be folly; he had hoped that somehow Hanzo would see reason and back down, and that he could return to his life of whoring and gaming as much as he wanted, free of the burdens of responsibility. He had hoped that he would not have to try and kill his brother after all, because when all was said and done, he was still fond of Hanzo. But it seemed that a peaceful resolution was not meant to be. With grim determination, nodding to himself in affirmation, Genji prepared himself to face his brother once more. 

He landed on the open floor of the dojo, several metres away from Hanzo, and he drew his blade.

=========================

Trembling fingers closed around Genji’s length as Hanzo began to touch at him, marveling at the silky smoothness of his skin, impressed at his size although it was not that different from Hanzo’s own. With every stroke Genji moaned his need; with every moan a shiver of pleasure made its way up and down Hanzo’s spine, causing him to groan in return. He couldn’t help but appraise Genji’s body as it lay there, noting every scratch and scar, able to recognize where most of them had come from and which ones he had struck himself; Genji, too, watched Hanzo through heavy-lidded eyes, mentally tracing his way along the marks upon his brother’s skin, seeing the lines which his blade had cut during their sparring sessions.

“More,” Genji gasped, bucking upwards into Hanzo’s fist, no longer caring that he sounded so needy. “More, Hanzo… give me _more…”_

“You really are a spoiled child,” Hanzo muttered, although he was grinning as he did so. He slid closer, pleased to note that Genji reached for his length in return, his brother’s fingers brushing against him while he shifted to kneel between Genji’s legs. “But I will give you what you want… _this_ time.”

He would have to be careful, he knew; he was already reaching for the small bottle of lotion he kept beside his pillow (because as a young man he had needs; many nights he had lain here and pleasured himself whilst thinking of a variety of situations, some of them involving Genji himself) and squeezing some out onto shaking fingers, reaching down to slicken his arousal and cursing under his breath as some of the lotion spilled onto Genji’s bare skin. Genji cried out at the sudden feeling of cold, but laughed as well; they really were like two children at play, only their games had changed.

His laughter abruptly stopped, however, as Hanzo suddenly pressed himself against his brother’s entrance, the hot, smooth head of his hardness pushing at Genji’s most sensitive of places. They both tensed, briefly; this was something new, something scary, exciting, forbidden---

\---and then Hanzo pushed forwards, easing himself inside his brother, the first inch of his length thrusting at the circle of muscle inside Genji’s tight, hot body---

=========================

The brothers faced each other now with naked steel, both poised and ready to strike, both conscious of the other’s movement, their poise, their stance; the slightest twitch could betray a killing blow, a stray glance could broadcast where a blade was intended to strike. They stayed that way for what felt like an eternity, although in truth it was barely a matter of seconds – and then, the storm broke. 

At the same moment they charged towards each other, the air becoming an intricate lattice of fury and steel. Their blades clashed and withdrew in a deadly dance which the naked eye could not even follow, the air ringing with the sound of steel flashing against steel, their bodies sinuous and fluid as they both tried to gain the upper hand. Hanzo’s sword bit into Genji’s left shoulder again and again, tearing him open until it was hard to tell which tattered strands were torn silk, and which were ruined flesh; Genji’s blade ate away at Hanzo’s suit, baring the flesh beneath, staining the fine white sleeves of his shirt an ugly crimson.

At first it seemed they were evenly matched, meeting each other with strikes and counter-strikes, fending off blows and parries and counter-attacks with skill and ease – but as the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that Genji was being worn down by Hanzo’s relentless assault. Perhaps it was the fact that Genji had been slacking in his training over the past few months; perhaps Hanzo was so fueled by his anger that he did not tire. Either way, Genji was the one with wounds appearing across his chest, over his forehead, blood trickling into his eyes. But Hanzo seemed to take no pleasure in it; he may as well have been an Omnic for all the emotion he showed as he cut into his brother, again and again.

Relentlessly he drove Genji towards the back wall of the dojo, the same wall behind which he had hidden to take refuge from Genji's shuriken only minutes before; this was the wall upon which hung a large scroll bearing the bold calligraphy of one of their predecessors. The brothers had always paid their respects here prior to facing each other in a sparring match, bowing both to the scroll and to each other, but there was no such respect shown now. With a cruel swipe of his blade, Hanzo slashed so fiercely across Genji's face that the wound sprayed ugly crimson across the faded paper, his attack so brutal that the swing even sliced through the scroll itself - but so intent was he now on defeating his brother that he didn't even notice.

=========================

Genji cried out as Hanzo entered him, his body adjusting to his presence, the sharp stab of his brother’s length a delicious counterpoint to the heat of pleasure which rose within him. His hips bucked upwards to meet Hanzo’s own, a gasping cry escaping Genji’s lips as Hanzo slowly, firmly filled him with every last inch; he could feel himself trembling but refused to allow fear of the unknown defeat him, instead closing his eyes and focusing on the powerful, undeniable rush of sheer ecstasy which already hovered at the edge of his consciousness.

“Hanzo…”

It was all the encouragement Hanzo needed. Taking Genji’s utterance of his name as permission to do more he pulled back only to thrust forwards again, gently at first, but with increased vigour until he had worked up a steady rhythm; his body moved in time with Genji’s own, the muscles of his shoulders shifting beneath his skin as he leaned down to kiss at Genji’s neck, his fingers touching at his hair, at his arms, at every bare inch he could reach. Genji, in turn, held onto Hanzo as if for dear life; his hands clutched at his brother’s waist, bunched into the flesh of his buttocks with every thrust, pulling him closer, harder, deeper---

=========================

_“Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!”_

Genji barely saw the dragon coming until it was almost too late. With a loud roar and a blinding flash of blue energy the Dragon of the South burst forth from Hanzo’s blade to race towards him, threatening to consume him within its coils and strip away what little energy he had left. 

_No, it won’t end this way!_

Calling upon that energy – drawing forth what strength he had – Genji summoned his own guardian spirit, the Dragon of the North, to push back against Hanzo’s onslaught and perhaps even buy his life. 

_“Ryujin no ken wo kurae!”_

Glowing with powerful green energy the Dragon of the North sprung into existence around Genji’s body, both protecting him and driving back the furious onslaught of his brother’s fury.

Entwining themselves together as one, the dragons both diffused and enhanced each others’ power, their bodies moving together as their energies dispersed---

=========================

“Hanzo!” It was a pained cry, a plea for satisfaction, his brother’s name almost a prayer upon Genji’s lips. “Please, Hanzo… don’t stop… oh, gods, don’t stop, please…”  
“Genji…” Hanzo’s own voice was rough and deep, recognizing Genji’s need with a gruff murmur of acknowledgment, his breaths shallow, ragged, torn. “Oh yes, Genji, yes, , _yes…”_

That was enough. With a gasping cry Genji’s body shuddered beneath Hanzo’s own, lost to the wave of desire which crashed over him, sweeping away all thoughts of logic and fears of discovery and replacing them instead with sheer ecstasy. Where he gripped his brother's waist his knuckles turned white, his fingertips digging into his flesh, his essence spilling out to stain Hanzo’s skin with his pleasure, spattering against his own chest, against Hanzo's...

_“Genji!”_

And then Hanzo was reaching his peak alongside his brother, his body shuddering in the throes of pleasure as sheer ecstasy consumed him. He thrust inside Genji again and again, spending his seed within him, pounding furiously against Genji and crying out his name; thoughts of his brother consumed him, the world beyond a distant memory, the only thing which mattered being his naked flesh, the scent of Genji's skin, their closeness, their shared pleasure, their _ecstasy_...

They fell back against the bedroll together, panting and gasping, their bodies wrapped about each other, and utterly, utterly spent.

=========================

Genji was hardly even breathing, the barely-perceptible rise and fall of his chest the only indication that any life remained in that ruined body; a gaping wound revealed raw, red flesh from thigh to sternum, a trail of torn flesh describing a path across his left shoulder where Hanzo’s blade had all but cut him to the bone. His eyes, had they still been intact, could not have seen through the curtain of blood which dripped from the ruin of his face. 

“I take no pleasure in this, brother.” With trembling muscles which screamed at him for every move he made, Hanzo forced one foot in front of the other to stand over Genji, his expression showing nothing but grim determination. Although he intended to speak with conviction it felt as though the words came from far away, lacking strength or meaning. “You have brought death upon yourself.”

“H-Hanzo…”

The word was so faint, so weak, that anyone other than Hanzo would not even had heard it. He hesitated, the knuckles of the hand which held his blade turning white, eyes narrowing as he poised to counter any sudden tricks; this was Genji. Genji always had a trick up his sleeve. A feint, a counter, a way to defeat an enemy with guile and cunning... 

...but this time, there were no tricks. There was only the twitch of Genji’s left arm as he called upon the last of his strength to reach out towards his brother, his fingers stretching in a gesture of helplessness, a silent plea for help, for forgiveness, for anything.

“…a-always…”

Hanzo drove his blade deep into Genji’s heart.

=========================

“It hurts, Hanzo… it hurts…” But Genji was smiling, his cheeks burning with satisfaction as well as embarrassment, playfully chiding his brother even as Hanzo continued to move inside him; and then, with a long, low moan he slipped from Genji’s body, Genji already keenly feeling his loss. _“A-aaaaahhh….”_

“Thank you.” Hanzo propped himself up on his elbows long enough to plant a kiss of gratitude on Genji’s forehead, and then he, too, collapsed upon the bed beside his brother, his passion spent. “You did well, little dragon.”

They bathed in the afterglow of their pleasure together, Genji pressing close against his brother, Hanzo holding Genji close as their heartbeats slowed and their breathing began to return back to normal. Hanzo wasn’t usually one to speak so openly about his emotions – for him it was a weakness, an admission of failure – but at that moment the words came unbidden, drawn forth by the greatest happiness he had ever felt in his life.

“I’ll always love you, Genji, I swear it. I promise I’ll always love you. Always.”

=========================

The sword clattered loudly across the floor as Hanzo cast it aside, the blade coming to rest against the base of one of the huge pillars which held the dojo’s roof aloft; it left behind a trail of Genji’s blood, his younger brother’s destiny written in damning scarlet upon the polished wood. The sword itself was chipped and pitted, scarred by Hanzo's relentless assault, centuries of fine craftmanship ruined by a bitter need to protect a sense of dignity which Hanzo was not sure he could even feel any more.

 _It is done._ Hanzo fell to his knees, his shoulders trembling with heavy, gasping breaths. It needed to be done. _I still have my honour. My family. My duty…_

He stared at his hands, covered with Genji’s blood, covered with his own, his clothes and skin marked and tainted with cloying red stains, no longer sure which was his or which were his brother’s, the blood of the family brutally united in death. Hanzo would never forget the sight of this; he would never heal from the crippling wound which had opened within his soul.

_My fate is written in blood._


End file.
